


A Matter of Humanity

by Miss_Nihilist



Series: Defense Systems Armed [3]
Category: Astro Boy (2009)
Genre: Angst, Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Moral Dilemmas, Politics, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nihilist/pseuds/Miss_Nihilist
Summary: In the aftermath of Astro’s mistake, two things stick out as the most important issues to fix: Doctor Tenma must convince his son that he is more than a machine, and Astro has to convince everyone else.
Relationships: Atom | Astro Boy & Dr. Tenma | Dr. Boynton
Series: Defense Systems Armed [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841797
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	1. It's Not Your Fault

The holophone had been ringing all day and Doctor Tenma had quickly gone to near-religious lengths to pretend that he couldn't hear it. He knew what they wanted from him: questions answered. The story had been all over the news, just about the only thing that anyone was talking about. That was how Tenma had found out about it — his son, still locked in his room as he had been for the past two days, had yet to utter a word. (A part of Tenma wanted to be stung, but he knew Astro didn't owe him anything and it felt like he didn't have the right to be hurt by the rejection.)

But something had to be said eventually. The longer that Tenma waited, the wilder the accusations leveled at Astro became, and the more frenzied the protesters grew and the longer the list of demands leveled at the Ministry of Science got.

They plastered the gruesome photos of the crime scene all over the news and played back a witness's testimony until the woman's delirious ramblings were seared into Tenma's mind. He could hear them all, every second of every day, no matter how alone he was: the shrill recount of how his son had killed someone, the calls for Astro to be dismantled, the insults that they flung at him and Tenma both.

_Monster._

The word filled Tenma with a sort of weariness. If murder made someone a monster, then they had all vastly underestimated what humans were capable of.

Or maybe Tenma was wrong and something didn't need a gun or a knife or a plasma blaster powered by the energy of a star core to be a monster. He wasn't often wrong, but Tenma was willing to entertain the idea for once.

At the very least, he knew which definition of "monster" Astro would rather hear.

Running a hand over his tired eyes, Tenma walked over to the large windows of the penthouse living area. They stretched from floor to ceiling, taking up nearly the entire wall, and had a lovely view of most of Metro City. Doctor Tenma's home was very near the Ministry and, through the cracks between buildings, he caught glimpses of the sea of protestors gathered in front of the Ministry. More still were gathered in front of City Hall. Some had tried to protest outside of the penthouse directly but, it being privately owned, they were labeled as trespassers and quickly handled by the city's police.

Tenma didn't need to have the protestors outside of his home to know what they were saying, though. The television projector behind him was on, with live coverage of the steps of the Ministry. He couldn't pick out the individual words of anyone. It all just blurred into one angry, insistent chatter.

He knew what the problem was: these people understood nothing, and expected a robot programmed to save them when, in fact, there had only been a child protecting himself with power that he didn't even want. But Tenma knew without trying that an answer like that wouldn't go over well. _Robots can't think for themselves_ , they would argue. _They can't break the Laws of Robotics_ , they would insist, the idiots that they were, ignoring that Astro had done exactly that. If he hadn't killed someone, then they wouldn't want him decommissioned. If he had failed to protect an innocent, then they _would_ want him decommissioned. It was vexing. Tenma always hated those sorts of scenarios: _you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't._

The truth was that the people were scared. They were scared and reactionary and panicking, and nothing that Tenma said was going to soothe them because they didn't want the truth. None of them did. They just wanted to hear what would make them feel better.

Watching them all, little pricks the size of ants in the distance, Tenma sneered. He couldn't help the disgust surging in his chest. Astro deserved better than these people, as ungrateful as they clearly were.

But he took a deep breath and calmed himself. Getting self-righteous on his son's behalf wouldn't solve anything. Speaking of Tenma's son…

As important as talking to the media was before the situation got any worse, Tenma couldn't soothe any of their worries if he didn't know what had happened. He had seen the photos. It had been a brutal kill, but Tenma couldn't believe that _any_ child would do something like that on purpose, especially not one as gentle as Astro.

He needed the truth. And if Astro wasn't going to offer, then Tenma would have to ask.

Pulling away from the window, Tenma turned the television projector off. Without it, the penthouse was unnaturally quiet. He climbed the stairs slowly, knowing that Astro could hear his footsteps. If nothing else, Tenma wanted to give his son a few extra seconds to collect himself and figure out what he wanted to say.

Tenma didn't quite know what to say, either. But he had a vague idea of what he wanted to know and he thought that it was better to let Astro lead the conversation as he was comfortable, anyway.

In front of Astro's door, Tenma hesitated. As difficult as it had been the last few months since the PeaceKeeper's rampage, never before had the chasm between them felt as uncrossable as it did then. It wasn't that Tenma thought Astro was a monster for what he had done. It was more that he was worried that _Astro_ considered himself a monster. He didn't know how to undo psychological damage like that. It had taken two months for Astro to stop flinching when Tenma moved too quickly and he still tensed up when Tenma had to open his chest compartment for routine check-ups.

Raising his hand took more effort than it ever had before, but making the decision was the hardest part. Tenma heard himself knock before he had even realized he'd done it. The world snapped back into place. Instead of a canyon between him and his son, there was only an ordinary door.

"Astro?" He tried softly. "I know you're upset about this, and you have every right to be, but we need to talk." Tenma paused. "Please. Let me in. We don't have to do anything that you aren't comfortable with."

He was met with silence. Astro hadn't even told him to go away, he was just ignoring Tenma. Which, in all honesty, was one of the better ways he could have reacted.

Tenma wasn't sure if the door was locked or not, but he didn't test it to find out. It wasn't his place. He had reached out his hand, so it could only be Astro's decision if he took it or not. Considering what Doctor Tenma was asking of him, a refusal was more than fair.

"That's alright, too," Tenma said, trying to be gentle — so, _so_ gentle. "I can wait until you're ready, no matter how long that takes." He could hold back the press and the politicians and the protesters. None of them were as important as Astro.

Still, no response. Tenma strained to hear through the door and there was nothing, not even a shuffle. He couldn't pretend that it wasn't disheartening, but Astro had made his choice, so Tenma would honor it. He turned to leave.

The door slid open with the nearly silent whir of motors. Doctor Tenma froze. Carefully, he turned back around.

Astro was standing there. Tenma wasn't sure why he had expected someone else. The pants and hoodie that Astro wore were completely normal, like something he would wear if it was any other day. The look on his face was what set him apart. It was clear that Astro was exhausted and bottling his emotions in as tightly as he could. His face was drawn into a pinched frown and he wouldn't look at Tenma directly. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, hunched in on himself.

It didn't take a kinesiologist to understand — the door was open, but Astro was not. He didn't want to talk, yet he was forcing himself to because he knew it would only get more difficult the longer that he put it off.

"Astro…" Tenma reached for him and paused. Would hugging him help or make things worse? Was he supposed to apologize? Asking what was wrong seemed counterproductive when Tenma already knew exactly what the problem was.

He remembered coming home to the sink running and Astro standing over it with a red-tinted rag, blood splattered on his cheek where he had missed a spot and an empty look in his eyes. Tenma had been horrified — not to discover the blood and, thanks to the news, the gruesome body. He had been floored to see his son looking so defeated.

Predictably, Astro shrank away from him, averting his gaze. "I'm…" He thought for a moment. "I'm fine, dad," he lied, because nothing else seemed appropriate. The silence between them was so thick that it made it hard to breathe. Astro's eyes flickered toward him before peeling away again. "Did you need something?"

Never having been one for beating around the bush, Tenma nodded. He took a step forward, keeping his hands to himself that time. There was still enough space for Astro to shut the door if he wanted to, but Tenma's intention was clear: he wanted to be let in. "Yes," he said seriously. "Everyone seems to have a different version of what happened that night. I need you to tell me what _really_ happened, Astro. Please. Talk to me," Tenma begged. The only other thing left for him to do was clasp his hands and get on his knees.

As soon as he'd said "that night," Astro's face had shut down. The tiredness and misery were gone. Tenma would have preferred it, because anything was better than that emotionless, detached look in Astro's eyes. It was as though he wasn't even activated, still lying as an empty shell on Tenma's workbench. A look like that didn't suit him at all.

Astro set a hand near his door's sensor, prepared to close it. "I killed someone," he said flatly, and _fuck_ , even his _voice_ had turned robotic. "What else do you need to know?"

Tenma bit down a surge of frustration. It took constant effort to keep back his old habits, his old methods of parenting, but he couldn't give in to impatience. If he grew angry again, _especially_ at that moment, Astro was going to shut his door and Tenma doubted that it would ever open again.

(Or, worse, that vacant look would fade and Astro would stare at Tenma with fear again. As though his dad had only come to shut him down and not to comfort him.)

So he closed his eyes briefly and collected himself. Moving slowly, so as not to startle, Tenma got down on one knee. When Astro only blinked at him, uncertainty bringing emotion back to his barren eyes, Tenma reached out. Astro let him set a hand on his shoulder and they both ignored the way that he flinched at Tenma's touch, shuddering. But was it the contact that upset Astro or the kindness?

"I know what they've been saying about you," Tenma whispered. He wanted to hug Astro, but he hoped that the small touch and his soft words were enough — enough for Astro to understand how intimate this moment was and that anything he said would be their secret. "I don't believe a word of it, Astro. You aren't a murderer. You're not a monster and you don't need to be decommissioned. You're still a child. And I know that you wouldn't have hurt that man if he hadn't made you feel threatened."

Something that Tenma said must have been right because Astro's eyes widened. He searched Tenma's face for a long, thoughtful moment. In the end, he must have found what he was looking for, because he sighed. In doing so, he hunched forward, and his face seemed to lose a decade of age. "I didn't mean to," he whispered, an admission.

Instinctively, Tenma pulled his son closer, and Astro tucked himself against Tenma's chest, under his chin. "We should sit down," he suggested. Astro nodded in agreement but made no attempt to move.

Hiding a fond smile, Doctor Tenma adjusted his grip on Astro so that he could lift his son off of the ground. Astro wrapped his arms around Tenma's neck, like he was five and had scraped his knee and was crying for his daddy to bandage it.

The smile vanished when Tenma remembered that he hadn't been there when Toby had fallen down. His wife had been there, and then later, Orrin had been. Tenma had been working. He forced himself to accept it. The past was unchangeable. Astro wasn't Toby, and Astro didn't need someone to protect him from cuts and bumps and bruises. Tenma couldn't wrap his wounds. At least, not the physical ones.

Sitting on the edge of Astro's bed, Tenma kept his arms where they were and let his son get comfortable. Astro ended up sitting on the bed next to him, pressed against Tenma's side and glaring at the wall with watery eyes.

After a moment's hesitation, he lifted his hand and Tenma ran his fingers through Astro's hair. The fake strands parted for Tenma's touch and melded back together once his fingers had passed, keeping Astro's hair perfectly styled despite the manhandling. "You know it's not your fault," Tenma offered once the quiet had become too much for him. He was self-conscious of his own breathing and heartbeat when Astro had neither. "You're tearing yourself up over something that you never meant to do, Astro. You can't keep all of this guilt bottled up. You're only making yourself miserable."

Silence resumed. Tenma thought that Astro wasn't going to say anything at all, that he was content to stay in his dad's arms until one of them got sick of it, but he couldn't have been more wrong.

"John Goulding," Astro said suddenly.

Tenma stared. He thought that maybe he had misheard but, somehow, he doubted that it was the case. To be safe, he asked, "What was that?"

"I said, Johnathan Goulding!" Astro snapped, yanking himself out of Tenma's arms. "That was his name, dad! He had a wife and two kids and a rap sheet as long as my arm, and I—" He faltered, losing his anger as soon as it had come. Astro slumped, his forehead bumping Tenma's arm. "...and I killed him. You can't justify what I did by pretending that it was anything other than murder."

"I'm not," Tenma protested, setting his hands in his lap as a reminder to give Astro his space. "These aren't justifications, Astro. But there are always explanations and more to the story than one person can tell. That's why our justice system doesn't punish those who were acting in self-defense." He paused. "Was it self-defense, Astro?"

His son couldn't make eye contact, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. Astro scowled in frustration. "It wasn't really _self_ -defense. He had a gun, but I would have been fine. Maybe a little dented, but…" His expression darkened. "But he pointed the gun at that woman, and I didn't— I didn't even _think_ about it, then suddenly I was pointing my arm cannon at him and firing and I—" Astro cut himself off, pressing a hand over his mouth to muffle an undignified noise as he swallowed a sob. "And the next thing I knew, he was _dead_. I blew his head off. What kind of _person_ does that?"

Tenma hummed softly, looking down. "He did."

There was a sniffle and Astro cleared his throat, wiping his eyes before risking looking over at Tenma. "What?" He asked, lost.

"He did," Doctor Tenma repeated. He forced himself to meet Astro's gaze. "That man was undoubtedly a person, but he was still going to hurt you. He was going to kill that woman you saved and then attempt to do the same to you. But you don't see anyone claiming that he's less than human," he pointed out.

Astro opened his mouth, then closed it with a scowl. He thought for a moment, then said heatedly, "That doesn't mean that what I did was right."

"I'm not saying that it was," Tenma placated — although, truthfully, he would much rather have an attempted murderer lying dead in the street than his son. "My point is just that maybe you, as well as the entire media, should rethink the definition of "monster." Killing each other is something that humans have always done and something we will always do. And so far, no robot is capable of it." He tried to manage a reassuring smile. "If anything, this only makes you _more_ human."

With a frustrated shout, Astro lurched to his feet. "Well, then maybe I don't _want_ to be human!" He snapped. "I'm so angry with myself, dad! I'm supposed to be a hero! Does anything about those photos look _heroic_ to you? I haven't been able to sleep because I can't relax, but pacing just works me up even more until I feel like I'm going to explode. I'm so ashamed of what I did. I don't _care_ if people label me as a monster or more human than ever, I just—!" He lost his steam as he whimpered, wiping at his eyes. Astro's shoulders trembled as he sobbed softly and something inside of Tenma broke at the sight. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. No matter what they did or might have done, I wanted to be better than that." He held his hands up in front of his face as if there was still blood oozing down his fingers. "But I'm no better than any other killer."

"Don't say that!" Tenma stood suddenly, crossing the distance between them in a few steps. A part of him said that Astro still needed space, but a bigger part of Tenma wanted to grab Astro by the shoulders and shake some self-respect into him. He compromised and set his hands calmly on his son's shoulders. "There is nuance to situations like this," Tenma said firmly. "Your motives were completely different than any other killers', Astro. You wanted to protect someone. How can you stand there and punish yourself for helping innocent people? What's more heroic than that?"

Hands hanging limply at his sounds, Astro blinked away tears and looked away. "I don't know…" He muttered. "Criminals are supposed to go to jail, so we can find out if there's nuance to their situations, too. I'll never know this man's story. Dead people don't talk. Maybe he was hurt as a kid and was confused and lashing out, so there was still a chance for him to improve himself. Maybe he was drugged or being blackmailed. Maybe that woman did something horrible to him and she's just as guilty as he is." Astro sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I silenced him. No one should have the right to just _do that_ to someone."

Tenma swallowed a groan. He knew already that he was stuck in a circular argument with Astro, as stubborn as he was when it came to his morals. But he wasn't there to get angry at Astro for not listening to him or to debate the ethics of killing.

"If you're going to resent someone, resent me." Tenma turned Astro's head toward him, a hand on his son's cheek as their gazes locked. "I designed you, Astro. I implemented you with those defense mechanisms and I gave them an automatic activation trigger, too. But after I lost Toby, I realized that I would rather risk a stranger's death than yours. Call me selfish." He squeezed his eyes shut, hands beginning to shake as Tenma fought away tears of his own. "Say that I lack empathy and compassion, scream at me, hit me— I don't care what you do to me, Astro, but you _need_ to stop blaming yourself. The idea that this could be your fault at all is absurdly laughable."

And Tenma might have laughed, but all he could get out was a wheezing chuckle. If he tried to laugh, he was going to cry and he wasn't sure if he would be able to make himself stop.

It was quiet after that. Astro stared at him, not expressionless, but his emotions unreadable all the same. Whatever was running through his mind, Tenma wasn't sure he wanted to know. He felt like he was growing delirious.

"Well?" Tenma prompted once the silence had become too much. "Aren't you going to say anything? You have every right to be mad at me, Astro. I forced you to do something that you didn't want to do, I made you compromise your morals. Aren't you furious? Don't you hate me for this?"

He could handle that, as long as Astro stopped hating _himself_.

There wasn't an answer. Astro froze for a moment, stuck in his own indecision. When Tenma felt like he was a second away from screaming, Astro lurched into motion. He didn't storm out of the room or push Tenma away or fly off. Tenma was so surprised to feel his son's arms wrapped around his midsection that he didn't make any move to return the hug. 

"No." Astro buried his face in Tenma's chest, sobbing quietly. "No, I don't hate you, dad."

Tenma just about collapsed, but Astro accommodated his weight without so much as staggering when Tenma lopped his arms around Astro's chest and pulled him closer.

"You can't live like this, Astro," Tenma said eventually, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Trust me. Guilt and self-hatred will eat you from the inside out until all you are is angry and miserable and you don't remember being able to feel anything else. You deserve so much better than that."

Astro nodded minutely. He squirmed as though trying to get closer, a physical impossibility, and Tenma set a hand on his head to steady him. "I'll try," he promised, a whisper. "I… And I want you to remove the self-defense feature from my programming. I don't want to let something like this happen again."

The urge to refuse was strong, but Tenma took a shuddering breath and choked down his pride. He could admit that he had been wrong. He wanted Astro to make his own decisions to make himself happier, even if they sometimes compromised his safety. It was Astro's right to choose that tradeoff.

"Okay," Tenma agreed. He ran a hand through Astro's hair and pressed his damp cheek to the top of his son's head. "Okay."

They didn't speak after that, and they didn't pull away for a long time.


	2. Where is the Line?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a very dialogue-heavy chapter. I'm sort of using this as a sounding board for my own thoughts on this complicated issue.

The limo came to a slow stop, hovering a few inches off of the ground. Looking out of the window, Astro found himself shrinking back. He knew that his dad's limo could withstand collisions of sixty miles an hour and the glass was bulletproof, but the furious faces of the waiting crowd and the soft clatter of all sorts of thrown objects bouncing off of the window certainly weren't very welcoming.

A hand on his shoulder encouraged Astro to tear his gaze away from the view beyond the limo. He glanced over at Orrin, anxiously tapping on the steering wheel and stealing little glances at them through the rearview mirror. He looked at his boots, at his hands folded in his lap, and worried his bottom lip between his artificial teeth before finally giving in and meeting his dad's eyes.

"Nervous?" Doctor Tenma asked, his voice as soft as Astro had ever heard it.

He huffed sarcastically, glancing back out the window. Since the limo had stopped, the officers who were keeping the protesters in order had begun setting up barriers and moving the angry crowd away from the limo. Astro didn't think a bunch of plastic, orange barriers were going to hold anyone back, but he appreciated the distance, anyway. He pointedly avoided looking at any of the signs being waved around. Astro closed his eyes. "You could say that."

It was obvious even without looking that Tenma was frowning. There was a guilty clench in Astro's stomach but, before he could dwell on it, the hand on his shoulder was removed and Tenma took hold of his hand instead. He gently pried Astro's hands apart, taking one and enveloping it in both of his. It did a good job of distracting Astro and he flexed his hand experimentally. It was sort of disillusioning, to see his hand covered completely by Tenma's much bigger ones, knowing what sort of devastation Astro's childish hands could wreak.

"I'm sorry. I wish that I could go in with you," Tenma said, bowing his head.

Astro managed a thin smile. "Don't be. It's… probably better that you don't, anyway." He resisted the urge to look behind him, at the city capitol building gleaming through the throngs of people. Something heavy hit the side of the limo and Astro grimaced. It was for the best that his dad didn't try to go out in that. "I'll be fine. I just have to… convince the President that I'm human _enough_ , right? Easy." His throat clenched with anxiety. "I can totally do that."

"Of course it will be," Tenma assured him. He gave Astro's hand a squeeze. "You managed to convince _me_ and that's saying something. This isn't anything you haven't done before."

Surprised, Astro blinked. The memory of his dad calling him an "it" and "just a machine" wasn't normally so fond. But Tenma had a point. If Astro could change the mind of his dad, the most stubborn man he had ever known, then he could convince anyone.

The smile that came to his face was easier than before as Astro leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his dad gratefully. "Thanks." He said it as a sigh, relaxing. "I'm glad you're here. I love you, dad."

Tenma made a soft noise, like he was surprised, then squeezed tighter. "I love you too, son," he muttered, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

As nice as it was, though, Astro knew he couldn't stay in the limo forever. He pulled away before he could get too comfortable, setting his hand on the door. "Wish me luck," he said, avoiding looking at Tenma. "Don't worry about waiting here or picking me up. I'll fly home when I'm done," he promised.

Or, depending on how things went, he was supposed to go to a secondary bunker location and wait for his dad there so that they could flee Metro City together. But Astro knew already that he wasn't going to do that. Not if it meant leaving his friends behind without so much as a goodbye.

(He carefully ignored the thought that they might hate him for what he had done, like everyone else. He had been avoiding them, too. What would they say?)

Before Tenma could say anything else, Astro opened the limo door. As soon as he did, there was a rush of noise, the sound of hundreds of people in a small place screaming at him. He cringed, but resisted the urge to turn down his hearing. No, Astro still felt that he deserved the people's scorn. He would earn his way back into their good graces but, at least for the moment, they were right.

He closed the door behind him, determined, and felt it pull away under his fingertips. Astro held his breath and, once it was gone, he resisted the urge to turn around and watch it go. He met the eyes of the people closest to him, held back by plastic barriers and the arms of officers who probably hated Astro just as much as everyone else did. But Astro had an appointment with the President, so he put one foot in front of the other and forced himself forward.

Looking over the signs that people were holding, Astro felt a part of him wither with every step. He didn't let himself linger long enough to absorb most of them, but keywords jumped out at him: "dismantle," "killer," "monster." Someone tried to spit on him when Astro passed. Another person threw a brick. He caught it, then gingerly dropped it at his feet. It wouldn't have hurt, but Astro didn't want to risk it hitting someone else if it bounced off of him or if he dodged.

There was a shout from behind and, as Astro turned, he saw someone break around the barriers. Two officers were holding the woman back, who had tears in her eyes as she screamed something that Astro couldn't hear through the ringing in his ears. He stared at her, petrified and unable to move. Someone stepped between them and, privately, Astro was grateful. He wasn't sure that he would have been able to look away on his own.

The officer in front of Astro said nothing, keeping her hands at her sides, but she flicked her eyes toward city hall pointedly and Astro, taking the hint, turned away from her. He felt chilled to his Core, but what could he do? Getting involved would only make things look worse. So he kept walking.

It felt like there was a weight on Astro's chest and it didn't let up until he was inside of the capitol building, the heavy wooden doors sealed shut behind him. He let himself lean against them for a moment, taking a shaky breath. Hopefully talking to the President would be easier than facing a mob who wanted to rip him apart without even bothering to recycle.

The joking thought should have made Astro smile, but it didn't. He pushed away from the door and further into the enormous, circular room in front of him.

There was a secretary's desk off to one side and a stout, younger woman tapped away at something on the holopad in front of her. Astro's metallic footsteps echoed like gunshots in the huge, marble corridor, but she didn't so much as blink, solely focused on her work. They were the only two people in the room.

Or, well, _she_ was a person. Astro was legally classified as "undecided" at the moment.

Only when Astro stopped in front of her did the woman spare him so much as a glance. Her eyes flicked over him and there was a hint of recognition before she refocused on her work. "May I help you?" She asked, voice perfectly polite.

She was being far more pleasant than the people outside, but Astro still felt insecurity curl in his chest and wanted to back away. Was he imagining it, or had her lips tilted down into a sneer for a second there? "I, uh…" He cleared his throat, desperate to find his voice. "I'm Toby Tenma. I have an appointment with President Robert Logan?"

The woman hummed in acknowledgment and flicked through a few tabs with a gesture of her wrist. The projector switched to display a list of names, dates, times, and blurbs of information that Astro didn't understand the purpose of. He looked away out of consideration.

After a moment, she nodded and the movement dragged Astro's eyes back up to hers. "Yes, here you are. Toby Tenma, the President has been expecting you. Please, follow me." She stood up, and maybe her smile was a little bit strained, but at least she wasn't throwing bricks as she left her desk and crossed to the large, ornate staircase near the back of the hall.

Astro hurried after her, staying silent. Maybe if he was allowed to be a person after the meeting, he would be able to talk to someone about changing his legal name.

She led him up another flight of stairs, tucked to the side and much less elaborate, and on the third floor the secretary stopped in front of a neat set of double doors. She knocked twice and, without waiting for an answer, opened it and stuck her head inside. "Mr. President," she said, her voice slightly muffled, "there's a Toby Tenma here to see you."

There was no verbal cue from Robert Logan, but the woman leaned back with a smile and waved toward the door. "You can go and see him now," she said. Her job done, she left Astro to stand there listlessly as she began the walk back to her desk.

He wished that he could linger outside of the office until he felt ready to enter, but Astro didn't have nearly that long to wait. He let himself linger for a few seconds more, then steeled himself and entered.

All things considered, it was a small office. Compared to the bright decals and golden swirls of the foyer and adjacent hallways, the President's office felt almost homey. It was still expensive, but other than the plush seats and mahogany desk, Astro didn't see a lot of money being wasted. The President himself stood away from the desk, facing the set of bay windows that let out over the front of the building. He must have had an excellent view of the angry crowd below, waving their demands around for him on sticks.

Astro shut the door behind him as quietly as he could and only then did Robert Logan turn to look at him. Compared to President Stone, he was a lot shorter than Astro had been expecting. He was noticeably younger, with a softer face and a head full of healthy hair. He had only been President for a month or so but, already, he looked tired.

Still, the smile on his face was genuine when he gestured Astro forward. "Take a seat anywhere you like. I've been waiting to meet you, Toby."

There was an odd sort of charm that came with being in front of the most powerful person in Metro City. Astro found himself complying, selecting the seat on the left in front of the desk. He thought that he ought to stay quiet, wait for Robert Logan to make the first move, but he opened his mouth anyway and said, "Astro, sir."

The President blinked at him, confused. "What was that?"

Astro swallowed the thought that he had already made a mistake. "My name is Astro, sir," he clarified. "Toby Tenma is dead."

(Dad said that it happened eight months ago. Astro could still remember the searing heat, the red light, then cold, cold nothing like it was yesterday.)

The mention of his origin made President Logan grimace. "Right. Your, uh, father explained to me the circumstances of your creation when we spoke a month ago. He didn't mention that you had a preference for another name. Astro, then." There was something like curiosity in his eyes and Astro fought not to squirm. "You can call me Robert, or Mr. President if the formality makes you feel more comfortable. Though, truth be told, I'm still not used to it." He sighed, looking out the window with a furrow between his brows. "I only won by default, you know that, don't you?"

A nod. Astro was never invested in politics, but he had been the one to put President Stone in prison, so yes, he knew that.

Robert Logan hummed thoughtfully. He glanced at Astro. "I was ahead in the polling numbers, but those are never completely accurate. A lot of my constituents doubt my ability to handle this position. Many argue that I never really earned it." He paused. "That means that I have a lot to prove."

Catching on, Astro felt his heart sink. "You're going to dismantle me," he said. It wasn't a question because he didn't need an answer.

Surprising him, President Logan shook his head. "I'm not planning on it. Truth be told, the decision that I make is more up to you than it is me. I just want you to know how important this conversation is, the sort of precedent it could set for the future of governing in this city and how people see robots." He walked away from the window, coming to stand in front of Astro, one hand propping himself up against his desk. "So, tell me. Do you think you're human, Astro?"

There was a sick feeling that twisted Astro's stomach. He stared down at his hands, clenched so tightly in his lap that they were shaking. "I'm not sure," he admitted.

When he didn't try to continue, Robert made a soft noise to prompt him. "And why not?"

It took Astro a minute to put how he was feeling into words. "Because… I'm not human. Not really," he said at last, looking up. "I died. Toby died and I…" He took a deep breath. "...I remember it, but that wasn't _me_. I can remember having to eat and feeling tired after a long day and being able to flex my toes, and _this_ — what I am now — feels nothing like any of those mundane things that are assigned to being human. I don't feel like a robot either, though. Robots have limiters on their personalities and range of emotions. And robots…" He pursed his lips. "...have to follow the Laws of Robotics."

"Ah, yes." They had finally come to the crux of the issue, the reason why Astro was there at all. Robert Logan looked thoughtful. "Do you know the Laws? Go ahead and repeat them for me, if you can."

Seeing as how his dad was the Head of the Ministry of Science (and Astro had been obsessively fretting over the Laws for the last few days), he didn't hesitate to answer. "A robot can't bring harm to a human, or through inaction allow a human to be hurt. A robot has to obey orders given to it by a human, as long as the order doesn't contradict the First Law. And a robot has to protect its own wellbeing if it doesn't conflict with the First and Second Law." Saying it left a bad taste in Astro's mouth, even as a part of him withered with guilt. If he had been programmed to obey the Laws of Robotics from the very beginning, then the whole situation could have been avoided.

"That's right." President Logan nodded. "That's why we have to shut down robots before they can be dismantled. Technically, preventing itself from being compacted doesn't hurt humans. All robots attempt to fight back automatically. Some even apologize while doing so." He paused and looked at Astro pointedly. "Your father told me that you let him shut you down without so much as a word in protest."

Whatever Astro was about to say died in his throat. He wondered if that was another charge against him: a robot that couldn't obey three simple laws. Astro dropped his head, toeing the ground with the tip of his foot. "Yes," he said with a nod. "I just… didn't see the point in running and hiding. I didn't have anything to live for, so it was…" He paused. "...easier, I guess. To let him shut me off." _To let him kill me_ , Astro thought, but didn't say.

"But the point," Robert Logan pressed, "is that you didn't try to save yourself. At any point from being captured on the Surface to being dragged back to Metro City, you did nothing, knowing what would come."

That time, Astro knew better than to try and defend himself. He nodded, once. "Yes."

President Logan almost smiled — it was a close thing, with an emotion behind it that Astro couldn't identify. "And have you ever disobeyed an order from a human?"

Astro huffed on a soft laugh. "Yes," he said, faintly amused. He was thirteen. What teenager didn't disobey just for the rush of saying " _no"_? And even outside of the house, before the fond memories of normal father-son interactions with Doctor Tenma, Astro had never been one for taking orders. That day in the arena of the Robot Games was a dark spot in his memories. But the point was that he had been told to fight and he had refused.

There was a chuckle from the President, no doubt following Astro's train of thought, but then his seriousness returned. He gestured to the window. "I think it's safe to say that you haven't obeyed the First Law of Robotics, either."

It wasn't an accusation, but Astro still winced. "No," he agreed. "I didn't."

Robert was quiet for what felt like a long time. Then, with a sigh, he said, "Astro, you don't follow any of the Laws of Robotics, something that all robots are meant to be programmed with before they even get off of the assembly line. Now, legally speaking, if I determined you to be a robot, I would charge your crime on Doctor Tenma. The legal battle would be his own and you would have to be programmed with the Laws of Robotics from here on." A pause. Astro almost wished that he could vomit, just so the ghost of his stomach would stop twisting. "If you were charged as a human, well… you're a minor. The charges would be minimal, especially if you make the case that you were acting in self-defense."

He didn't continue after a long minute, so Astro hazarded a response, asking, "What are you offering, exactly?"

There was a flicker of a smile on Robert Logan's face. "How would you feel if you were programmed to obey the Laws of Robotics?" He asked bluntly.

And Astro swallowed his burst of indignation to think about it. _Really_ think long and hard about the implications. It would be admitting to being only mechanical. Only what he had been programmed to be. But Astro had proof that he was more than that: his friends. He hadn't been programmed to like them. Doctor Tenma hadn't even programmed him to be a more obedient son or to love him more. He was as human as he had ever been, mentally.

But on the other hand, it would fix the outrage. If Astro let himself be reprogrammed, it would be a guarantee to soothe the outrage that he would never hurt anyone again. He wouldn't be _able_ to hurt someone.

He clenched his jaw in frustration and forced himself to relax it. "I regret what I did," he said eventually. And "regret" was an understatement. "I'll never forgive myself for it. But there's been dozens of other times that I made the decision not to hurt someone because I don't _want_ to hurt others. I can't stand it." Astro closed his eyes and saw the blood-stained alley, could smell burning skin and plasma radiating from his arm, could hear the woman's screams. That moment was tattooed on the backs of his eyelids, echoing in his ears, and he felt like it always would be. "If I was programmed to just not hurt people, then all the times I made the right choice would be meaningless." It would invalidate the only thing that was keeping Astro from complete and utter despair.

At least he had only killed one person, and not hundreds or even thousands.

Somehow, that was the right answer. President Logan laughed faintly, looking almost relieved. " _'What is better: to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?'_ " He quoted.

Astro nodded sagely. "I've never felt evil," he countered, "but yes, that's the idea. If my choices are made for me, that defeats the point. Why even pretend that a choice exists?"

"Is the choice important at all?" Robert asked. Not making an argument, but advocating for a side that neither of them agreed with. "Wouldn't it be better if no one had the option to kill? If the capability for murder were to suddenly vanish from the human brain, the world would be a better place, don't you think?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully, an eager twinkle in his eyes.

It took longer that time, but Astro eventually shook his head. "It probably would be," he agreed, "but if you don't understand death, you can't appreciate life. And if there are no evil people in the world, then you might not notice all of the good that there is, too."

A grin came to President Logan's face, a childish sort of glee that Astro would have never associated with someone so powerful. "You're quite mature for a boy your age, Astro," he said, impressed. He glanced at the clock hanging on the left wall. "We should have another conversation about the subject sometime. I find you fascinating, and not just for the circumstances of your creation. It's difficult, in this line of work, to find people willing to indulge me in an honest conversation."

It took a moment for Astro's tumbling thoughts to catch on to the implication. "Wait. Are you… saying what I think you're saying?" He moved forward in his seat, holding his breath, daring to be hopeful.

Robert arched an eyebrow in amusement. "You mean, am I going to officially support reclassifying you as a human? Not quite." His grin didn't fade. "I'm sure there are other robots like you out there, Astro. Or, if there aren't, there will be now that the technology for it exists. Some robots are only programmed with simple orders and have no sentience to speak of, that much is true. We can't give equal rights to things that are incapable of independent thought, but…" He trailed off and Astro felt like he might combust. "...for those that aren't, those with the same passion for life that you have… Well, what do you think of being classified as an "android," with all the same legal rights as a human?"

Astro's mouth hung open. He didn't know what to say. It was… ambitious. It was an idea like no other. A whole new classification for personhood and Astro was pioneering it. He held no attachment to the term "human" when he clearly wasn't. He couldn't define himself as a "robot" when he wasn't really that, either. All Astro wanted was respect and consideration and the ability to live his life the way that he wanted to.

The public was going to hate it, at first. Maybe President Logan wouldn't make it to a second term. But Astro envisioned the future, just for a second. A hundred years down the line, robots like him as numerous as the human population, all of them co-existing, different in no way other than replacing veins with wires and skin with metal. It was possible that Astro would still be around by then, but even if he wasn't, he could see his face in history books and could imagine the proud voices of people talking about the change the Robert Logan bravely put forth, even knowing how unpopular it was going to be.

He had said that he had a lot to prove. Well, giving rights to a new classification of robots would certainly do it.

His eyes stung and Astro reflexively blinked, surprised to feel tears running down his cheeks. He wavered, torn, then suddenly burst from his seat. Before he could tell himself not to, Astro had wrapped his arms around the President of Metro City, hugging him as he shook softly.

"Thank you," Astro whispered, afraid that his voice would crack if he was any louder.

One hand went around his shoulders and the other, Robert Logan set on his shoulder, giving a squeeze. "There's no need to thank me for giving you something that you should have always had," he said, sadness in his voice that only made Astro want to cry harder.

There was nothing to be said to that, so Astro stayed quiet. He thought of the joy on Doctor Tenma's face when Astro delivered the good news, not having to be afraid to be seen in public anymore, working to better himself and make the right choices for a whole new breed of robots. Not since he had first woken up had Astro held such hope for the future and, without his permission, the tears fell even faster.

He buried his face in Robert's suit jacket and let himself hug this kind, odd stranger a little bit tighter. Everything was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I took Tenma's view on this issue from what he says in PLUTO, how he comments several times that Atom is a failure because he's incapable of the intense love and hatred and sorrow that can push a human to kill someone. I'm not sure why Tenma would want his son to be a killer, but it's an interesting argument nonetheless, and one that I think about often. So I thought it would be fun to touch on those ideas in this fic.
> 
> **Feel free to check out my Astro Boy blog[HERE](https://astroboy2003sub.tumblr.com) for updates on my writing and other Astro Boy content!**


End file.
